The Parrot Died!
At dawn the telephone rings . . .
"Hello, Senor Rod?"
This is Ernesto, the caretaker at your lake house in Bella Vista."
"Yes, Ernesto.
Is there a problem?"
"Um, I am just calling to advise you,
Senor Rod, that your parrot - he is dead."
"My parrot? Dead?
The one that won the international competition?"
"Si, Senor, that's the one."
“I spent a small fortune on that bird.
What happened?"
"From eating the rotten meat, Senor Rod.”
"Rotten meat?
Who the hell fed him rotten meat?"
"Nobody, Senor.
He ate the meat of the dead horse."
"Dead horse?
What dead horse?"
"The thoroughbred, Senor"
"My prize thoroughbred is dead?"
"Yes, Senor Rod,
he died from all that work pulling the water cart."
"Are you insane??
What water cart?"
"The one we used to put out the fire, Senor."
"Good Lord!!
What fire are you talking about?"
"The one that destroyed your house, Senor!
A candle fell and the curtains caught on fire."
"What??”
“my house is destroyed because of a candle??!!"
"Yes, Senor Rod."
"But there's electricity at the house!!”
“What was the candle for?"
"For the funeral, Senor Rod."
"WHAT BLOODY FUNERAL??!!"
"Your wife's, Senor Rod.
“She showed up very late one night
and I thought she was a thief,
so I hit her
with your new
Taylor Made Super Quad 460 golf club."
SILENCE........... LONG SILENCE.........
"Ernesto, if you broke that driver, you're in deep trouble!
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